A coat of porcupine quills?
Or a shroud of razor wire?
Neither and both, I suppose.
It could be so, so much
worse, but the chronic awkwardness I wear every day certainly feels to me as
painful and cutting as both these over-exaggerations.
Most days I pretend it doesn’t bother me at all. Somedays the
ill-fitted-ness of me is simply crushing.
Today is someday, I confess.
*sighs… straightens the collar of
the quill coat, trying to look sharp and brave in all my imagined pokiness…
smiles stubbornly*
Apologies.
This stupidity will pass, too; and tomorrow will be a better day.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
Post-note: Mental illness sometimes tackles creativity to the ground
and beats it to a bloody, unrecognizable pulp.
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